


Blue

by Insomnia_Productions



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Happy Birthday Alois!!, M/M, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 02:45:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5147375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomnia_Productions/pseuds/Insomnia_Productions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ceiling is grey. As are the walls. And the bed. And the windows, as well as the world outside them.<br/>Alois has heard stories about people who can see beyond the grey, people who claim that the world is really made up of all sorts of different things they call colors.<br/>People who’ve found their soulmate. </p><p>As a child, Alois would sit for hours, daydreaming about meeting his soulmate and seeing the beautiful world those people saw. </p><p>He gave up on that dream a long time ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue

The ceiling is grey. As are the walls. And the bed. And the windows, as well as the world outside them. The ashen mirror reflects messy light grey hair, a pale grey face, and sad, tired grey eyes. Alois has heard stories about people who can see beyond the grey, people who claim that the world is really made up of all sorts of different things they call _colors._  
  
People who’ve found their soulmate.  
  
When he was little, living in a shabby flat with his brother, Alois had believed them. He’d sit with Luka for hours, trying to imagine what these _colors_ might look like, daydreaming about meeting his soulmate. Back then, it was all that kept him going. The dream that someday he would meet his soulmate, someone who would show him a world far more beautiful than this one, someone who could take him and Luka away from this hellhole they called a _house_. Away from the rats and the mold and the dirt, away from the father who would hit Luka and do _other things_ to Alois. Things that made him feel dirtier than the filthy flat did.  
  
He gave up on that dream a long time ago, gave up hoping that someone would take him away. Alois did that himself, on a particularly awful night, when the old man had been particularly drunk. When Luka, tormented by his brother’s screams, had finally snapped. Alois still remembers how small and afraid he looked, standing there with a kitchen knife clutched in his trembling hands, tears gathering in his eyes as he screamed at their father to let Alois go. He still remembers the way the old man’s face twisted, the guttural snarl he’d let out as he lurched forward and snatched the knife out of Luka’s hands, raising it high and slashing it forcefully across the boy’s throat. Luka fell so _slowly_ , his eyes wide and so, so scared, before they slid shut and didn’t open again. After that, the night became a blur of blood and darkness. All Alois remembers is running, stark naked and covered in bruises, running under the flickering street lamps of their run-down neighborhood and never stopping, not even as the skies opened and cold autumn rain plummeted from the heavens.  
  
Luka, his poor, sweet, loving Luka, was nine, at the time. Alois was eleven. Now he is fourteen.  
  
_Fifteen_ , he reminds himself, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face.  
  
Today is the fifth November. His birthday.  
  
The smile fades. Not that it matters, when his birthday is. Claude doesn’t care. No one cares. No one ever cared, except Luka.  
  
Alois slips into his usual, colorful attire—a shirt and a jacket, along with dark short-shorts, three-inch-heeled knee-length boots, and thigh-high socks— and pads into the kitchen. He has a nice home, now, a small but _clean_ apartment, near to the city’s largest cluster of malls and stores. His life is better now. _It is._  
  
Claude is in the kitchen, making fried eggs.  
  
Alois hates fried eggs.  
  
“Good morning, Claude,” he chirps, smiling brightly at the man.  
  
“Mph.” Alois’ shoulders sag. It wouldn’t hurt the antisocial man to respond just _once_ , would it? On Alois’ _birthday_ , too.  
  
Alois knows he should be happy with what he has, especially compared to what he used to have, but Claude makes that very difficult sometimes.  
  
When the police found him, four years ago, wandering aimlessly through the outskirts of the city, he’d been shuttled through an assortment of grey rooms and pitying adults, and at the end of it all, he’d been packed up and carted off to stay with Claude Faustus.  
  
_This man will be your foster father_ , they’d said to him. _He will take care of you. You’re safe now._  
  
Alois is safe, that’s for sure, but the whole _taking care of him_ part seems debatable. In their four years together, Alois doubts that Claude has spoken more than fifty words to him, and at least a fourth of those were likely related to ground rules and things he’s not allowed to do.  
  
Alois pokes gloomily at the yolk of his egg with a butter knife, finally penetrating the thin layer and watching the pale liquid seep out. He wonders if eggs taste better to the people who don’t see them in just two dull shades of grey. Alois sighs heavily and finishes the egg as quickly as possible, quickly washing and drying the plate and cutlery.  
  
“Claude?”  
  
“Mm.”  
  
“Can I… go out, for a bit?”  
  
“Mm.”  
  
Alois knows Claude’s customary grunts well enough to interpret that as a yes. He puts on another beaming smile and bounds forward, flinging his arms around Claude from behind.  
  
“Yay! Thanks, Claude!” Stepping away, Alois bites his lip and fidgets nervously. “Um… you know, today is… kind of special… for me.”  
  
Claude doesn’t even look up from the frying pan, where he is preparing an omelette for himself. “Right.”  
  
Alois nods, knowing Claude isn’t watching, and turns away.  
  
He got a word out of him, at least.  
  
Eyes trailing dejectedly over the floor, Alois spots his school bag lying on the floor, and notices a small flyer poking out of it. The fifteen-year-old brightens slightly and he snatches the flyer up, eyes widening a fraction as they scan the paper.  
  
_The winter fair!_ He recalls excitedly. _It opens today! I completely forgot!_  
  
The annual winter fair… something he’s always enjoyed, even back then. Though they did not have enough money to attend the fair, he and Luka would often walk around outside it, marveling at the sights and sounds within. He hasn’t been since Luka’s death, but the flyer looked so exciting, he just couldn’t help but take one…  
  
According to the flyer, the opening ceremony begins at 10AM.  
  
Alois checks his phone. 9:30AM.  
  
In the flash, Alois is out the door, stuffing both phone and flyer into his favorite sling bag and rushing down the stairs in a flurry of grey.  
  
Aside from _that night_ , Alois doubts he’s ever run this fast in his life. And in _three inch heels_ , no less. People and places become a blur as he runs, so it really shouldn’t come as a surprise when his left arm slams into someone else’s torso. Alois barely slows, one heeled boot swiveling as he spins around to apologize.  
  
_Crack!_  
  
Alois cries out as his ankle twists, falling hard on his hip.  
  
“Watch where you’re going, will you? Honestly, you—hey, are you okay?” The indignant voice of the other boy softens as he kneels beside Alois, looking at him with his head tipped inquisitively. “Did you hurt your ankle?”  
  
Biting back another whimper of pain, Alois slowly lifts his head to look at the boy, gaze traveling from his posh clothes to his pale face.  
  
Their eyes meet.  
  
And the world explodes. 

 

  


_Blue._  
  
When Alois’ mind regains the ability to string letters into words, his first thought is _blue._  
  
He doesn’t know what the word is, or where it came from. All he knows is that this boy’s eye, the one not covered by an eyepatch, is different from the the eyes of the passers by, different from Claude’s eyes, different from the eyes he sees every day in the mirror.  
  
They’re blue.  
  
And they’re… beautiful.  
  
Alois’ eyes flit all over the boy’s face, and now he sees that his skin is pale peach, his lips are light pink, his hair is slate-colored.  
  
Alois nearly gasps out loud.  
  
_That word._  
  
_Color._  
  
This time, when tears gather in his eyes, threatening to spill, Alois doesn’t try to stop them. The other slate-haired boy isn’t crying, but Alois can see the same wonder reflected in his eye as he slowly draws back. Now, with some space between them, Alois can see a whole host of colors clashing in and around the boy. Everything suddenly looks so much more vibrant and alive, like the world Alois talked about with Luka, but _so much more._  
  
The boy is still staring at him with Alois returns his gaze, and his cheeks are dusted red.  
  
“I…I’m Ciel. Phantomhive. I’m Ciel Phantomhive. Pleasure to meet you.” He turns redder with every word, seemingly struggling to regain composure.  
  
_Alois thinks it’s adorable._  
  
“Alois Trancy.” He smiles, and please god don’t let it be a shy smile, please just this once let him be the cool guy, the smooth guy, he can’t look like an idiot in front of this guy, this boy who is his— “Soulmate, huh?”  
  
Ciel smiles back, but it looks strange on his face, like smiling is a foreign concept to him. “Evidently. So, um, where were you rushing off to,” his eyes slide down to Alois’ boots, “in three-inch heels?”  
  
Alois grins. “The winter fair! It opens today. And don’t hate on my boots. They are fabulous.”  
  
Ciel says nothing, simply raising an eyebrow and smirking a little. “Whatever you say, Trancy.”  
  
“Please, don’t call me _that_. We’re soul mates, after all~” Alois revels in his own genius when Ciel turns pink, his cool facade cracking somewhat.  
  
“Whatever, _Alois_.”  
  
“That’s more like it, _Ciel_.”  
  
The smile comes more easily this time, and Alois takes this as a personal accomplishment. Ciel stands up, reaching back down to help Alois.  
  
“Here, can you walk?”  
  
Alois bats his hand away, scoffing. “Of course I can walk, Ciel, I’m not a baby.” He stands up, takes a step, and immediately falls back down. This time, however, he doesn’t hit the ground, instead finding himself cushioned by Ciel’s arms.  
  
“Damn, Trancy, how much do you _weigh_?”  
  
“ _Ah-low-ease_. And hush, I barely weigh a thing. You’re just a weakling.”  
  
“I could drop you.”  
  
“You wouldn’t.”  
  
Ciel drops him.  
  
Alois growls and stands back up, and Ciel smirks and slips an arm around his waist, letting Alois lean on him to walk. His eye glitters with amusement. Alois wouldn’t mind falling over a hundred times, if he got to see _that_ face again.  
  
“So, where do you live? We should probably get you home.”  
  
Alois startles. “What? No way! I’m going to the fair.”  
  
“Don’t be stupid,” Ciel scoffs. “You can’t even walk.”  
  
“Can too. Besides, I have you~”  
  
“Yes, you have me, to get you back home in one piece.”  
  
“Buzzkill.”  
  
“Hot mess.”  
  
Alois smirks. “ _Hot_ mess.”  
  
“Don’t flatter yourself.”  
  
“You think I’m hot~”  
  
“That’s not what hot mess means.”  
  
“Awww, Ciel, you think I’m _hot_!”  
  
Ciel’s voice is annoyed, but his cheeks are very pink. “Again, that’s not what—”  
  
“It’s okay, Ciel, I think you’re cute, too.”  
  
Now Ciel is positively crimson. “Sh-shut up.”  
  
“Mm, okay.” He doesn’t need to say anything more, anyway. “I live in that building over there, on the fifth floor, flat number fifteen.” He can sense Ciel’s surprise at his obedience, and smiles. For now, he’ll be a good boy. Ciel doesn’t need to know how... _fun_...he can be. Not just yet.  
  
They walk together in silence for a while, eventually reaching the lift, where they can split apart at last. Alois leans in the corner of the lift. His side feels cold now. Maybe he ought to fall over again.  
  
“So, soulmate, how old are you?”  
  
“Fourteen.”  
  
Alois beams. “Haha, I’m fifteen! Today’s my birthday!”  
  
Ciel huffs, grudgingly muttering a curt _happy birthday_ , and Alois gets the sense that this is a boy who doesn’t like to lose.  
  
_Brilliant._  
  
Alois, too, is a prideful boy who can’t stand losing. Maybe he’ll coax Ciel into a game of chess at his flat—his cute soulmate does seem the sort to view chess as one of the basic necessities of life. That would be a very interesting experiment, Alois is sure, and one that would likely end in rage and frustration and accusations of foul play.  
  
Perhaps it’s too early to make assumptions, having known Ciel for less than an hour, but Alois is a natural at mercilessly but accurately judging people within an hour of meeting them.  
  
Alois smiles. This is going to be a very interesting relationship.  
He can’t wait to live it all out.

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY SMOL SADISTIC BABYCHILD


End file.
